


diminishing returns

by isawet



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isawet/pseuds/isawet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam on a mission in Atlantis, with a team that doesn't fully trust her yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	diminishing returns

**Author's Note:**

> I do not have a beta, and am still working my way through SGA. I'll fix errors as I become aware of them. Contains S/J, but could be read with gen goggles.

“They want to talk to the boss,” Sheppard says, spreading his hands out like _what can ya do?_. Sharply, it reminds her of the General when he was the Colonel, telling her again she’s reassigned off the science mission she requested, trying to soften a blow that didn’t exist. She never regretted being on SG-1 instead of a field research and development team. She can--and has, in rare fits of self-pity--tallied up the pros and cons of every mission, every year fighting a war that just got worse. No matter how she did the math, she could never take it away, not SG-1. Sam shakes herself back to the present and flicks through the mission briefing. 

“And they’re willing to trade medical technology? For--aluminum foil?” _Cultural significance_ , it says on the report. Sam tries to imagine what that could possibly entail.

“Yeaah,” McKay says, dragging it out. “Here’s the thing--”

“Rodney,” Sheppard cuts him off, his tone a warning. McKay makes an impatient, indignant noise. They glare at each other.

Sitting between them, Teyla leans forward. “We did not view any machines, medicines, or anything else capable of advanced healing. However--”

“The villager was burned all up his body,” Ronon cuts in, his face set in its permanent scowl. “Next day, smooth and whole. We all saw it.”

Sam stares at McKay. “Is there a reason why this isn’t included in your report? Your suspicions?”

McKay blinks at her. “What?”

“All observations are to be listed in the official mission report, in order to inform command decisions.” Sam stands abruptly and snaps the file folder shut. “Tomorrow, 0900 hours.”

Sheppard rises with her, military straight, and salutes, overly formal. Teyla stands as well, a respectful tilt of her chin. McKay stays in his chair, mulish, and Ronon swings his feet up on the table. Sam wonders if that’s because of her tone or because she still hasn’t magically transformed into Dr. Elizabeth Weir through the force of their combined will. There’s a lingering pause where they see if she will comment on the deliberate disrespect, and when she lets the tension bleed away with no climax Ronon smirks a little. Sam turns on her heel and walks back to her office, where she forces herself to sit straight in her chair and take deep breaths, all while staring at the computer screen and pretending to be Very Seriously Working. Not for the first time, she internally curses at the large glass windows that make up the walls of the office.

“Knock knock,” Keller says from the door, cracking it open and peering in. Sam raises an eyebrow and Keller winces. “I knew that was lame as it was coming out of my mouth,” she admits, sidling into the office, “I just couldn’t stop it from happening.”

“Doctor,” Sam starts, but Keller waves her off. 

“I’m just checking in with you--I’ve been added to the offworld team?”

“Yes,” Sam says, leaning back and forgoing the pretense of reading files on the computer. “I want a medical expert to evaluate the technology before we move forward with trade negotiations.”

“Oh,” Keller says, awkward, “oh I see. It’s just--I’m not really sure…” She trails off. Sam waits her out, and Keller shifts a little on her feet. “It’s… supposed to be safe?” Her voice goes up in a question and Sam looks down to hide a smile. She likes Keller, goofy and green like she is, her enthusiasm, and she especially likes the way Keller seems to like her back.

“Stick with me,” she says, letting some of her natural pilot cockiness out to play, tucked away since she took command. Or maybe before then, it feels like it’s been so long. “I’ll take care of you.”

Keller laughs, most of the nerves running out of her. “I’ll keep you to that, Colonel. 0900 hours?”

“0900,” Sam confirms. When Keller leaves her eyes fall on a picture framed in the center of her desk, SG-1 sitting on the dusty steps at the base of a Stargate on some desert planet that left dust under her nails for days, Daniel’s short hair streaked with extra blonde from the sun. Sam stares at it, remembering Teal’c spreading sunscreen on his head with an incredible solemn expression, Daniel offering to do her back until she flicked MRE applesauce at him.

//

The Helians live in big sprawling cities, the city centers made of large buildings connected by twisting tunnels, all warmed to a temperature warm enough Sam sweats in her vest. Keller shifts in hers, had shown up to go through the gate without it until Sam made an airman fetch it. “I thought they were peaceful,” she’d grumbled, but Sam stood firm on the order. Sheppard shrugged, hooking his fingers into his own vest, and Teyla adopted a lightly approving version of her usual serenity. Ronon looked a little less like he was prone to kill her the moment Sheppard turned his back.

Sam steps through the gate and feels the drop in her belly, the rush in her ears. She walks into one of the large receiving rooms, remembers the briefing and Sheppard’s schematics, drawn from memory. There are three security stops between the gate and the Council room. The windows outside show solid white, the city dug into deep snowbanks and powered through steam pipes and irrigation. Sam stands in line, waiting to be screened through large machines that check for weapons, surrounded by polite greeters and sharply dressed security personnel. McKay and Sheppard talk quietly to each other in front of her, teasing Keller, all three heads bent close. Ronon pokes Teyla in the shoulder and points at a person in the line to their left, murmuring something that makes Teyla’s lips quirk, although her expression quickly turns disapproving.

Sam lets her thoughts wander, feeling the ache of being left out--unintentional though it is, she does not fit into the team’s familiar rhythm, their rapport. She constructs her own team around her, the General making a crack about Hell being frozen over, Teal’c informing him the country is called Helia, not Hell. Daniel rambles next to her, pushing up his glasses with one finger, _actually, Jack, some believe Hell is frozen, as it is the complete absence of God’s love, his warmth_. 

“Colonel,” Sheppard calls from in front of her, jarring. “You’re up.”

“Yes,” Sam murmurs, and shakes the image from her head. She unbuckles her sidearm from the leg holster and passes it a security guard, who nods and adds it to the bin with the other weapons.

“You good?” Sheppard’s eyes scan behind her, picking up on her unusual inattentiveness. An attendant offers him the bin of their weapons, and he buckles his to his chest. His hand hesitates over her sidearm, picked as both a statement and an example of projectile technology if she needs an ace in negotiations. His face stays flat, but when he offers it back to her it feels weighted.

“I heard Dr. Weir made it a point to always be unarmed.” Sam reholsters the weapon back against her leg, rubbing a thumb over gunmetal.

“You’re not Dr. Weir,” Sheppard says, his voice carefully neutral. He steps back to allow her to walk in front of him.

//

The Council member assigned as their tour guide leads them through tunnels decorated with tiled murals, wars and marriages and other important cultural and historical events. Where the wall and ceiling meet there are thin strips of foil in a simple but colorful pattern.

“It is an honour to our ancestors,” the tour guide says. “They believed the foil caught the sun and kept it to warm our halls.” He gestures to where the wall meets the floor, a matching band of foil. “These line all our buildings, and our citizens take pride in creating intricate patterns in their homes, some of which can trace their roots back generations, denoting marriages, careers, and other family ties.”

Sam makes several polite compliments, and Teyla crouches to get a better look at one particularly complex section, openly admiring. “It would be our pleasure to help your people preserve their culture.” Sam smiles her diplomat smile, wide and sweet, blue eyes crinkled and twinkling. 

Tour Guide takes the hint. “We will now go to the research hospital.”

//

Medical is marked by a symbol like a barbed asterisk. Tour Guide informs them it is the symbol of doctors. Keller sketches a caduceus in a notebook McKay almost trips over himself to offer her and shows it to some of the doctors they talk to. Keller is delighted by the differences in the monitoring machines, the displays, even the different alarms. McKay appears to be delighted by Keller’s delight. Teyla is politely bored, and Ronon less politely. Sheppard leans in close to her while they wait for an elevator (the doors of which are completely covered in patterned foil) and murmurs in her ear: “Have you noticed?”

Yes, Sam has noticed. Noticed that they are shown badly injured patients on one floor, miraculously recovered patients on the next, and nothing in between. She catches Sheppard’s eye and nods, linking her hands behind her back. Tour Guide continues with his completely surface level prattle about advanced recovery time and fine health care. “We would,” she cuts into his recitation of statistics, “like to view the technology now.”

“Uh,” Tour Guide stammers, “well--I. Um.” He slows to a stop in front of a closed door unmarked with foil and looks at the planet’s version of a smartphone. “I need authorization to, you know. Um. Let me call…” He steps away.

“This has been a giant waste of time,” McKay says.

Keller shrugs. “I’ve had fun.”

“Clothes,” Ronon grunts. “All the patients were dressed up nice, jewelry.”

McKay blinks. “So? They dress up for their annual physicals?”

Ronon glowers. “They’re rich. All the patients here are rich.”

“I have not seen any of the poorer people we met on the streets the last time we were here in this facility,” Teyla agrees.

“It doesn’t matter,” McKay says. 

“Rodney,” Sheppard snaps, disapproving.

“Sorry,” McKay says, “but I’m right. They might have an issue with less than universal healthcare, but that doesn’t change how advanced their technology is. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Ronon says, and shoves past McKay to grab Tour Guide by the arm.”Take us where we want to go.” Tour Guide looks at Sam for help.

She smiles. “You heard the man.”

//

He takes them to a small room, lit by long white bulbs. There’s a machine in the middle that takes up almost the whole floor, shaped like a giant rectangular bathtub. There’s a tugging in Sam’s gut and she missteps, stumbling slightly. She frowns--it’s familiar, but faded, faint.

“This machine is the finest example of Helian microsense medical science,” Tour Guide says, “featuring complete tissue regeneration in mere moments. With repeated cosmetic treatment, we offer scar removal and easing of joint and ligament strain.”

Sam steps closer and knows what the feeling in her gut means. “Where did you get this?” Her tone is sharp, demanding, and carries enough tension that Sheppard goes tight, his finger slipping into the trigger guard. He steps back and turns his body enough to cover the room and the door. Reacting more to him than Sam herself, Ronon and Teyla take appropriate flanking positions; Ronon steps up to loom helpfully at Sam’s shoulder, and Teyla yanks Keller over to the wall, away from the small window, where McKay can keep an eye on her.

“It’s--” Tour Guide is sweating bullets. “It’s--it’s the finest example of Helian--”

Sam slaps her hand on the lid and the sarcophagus opens with a woosh of movement, lit by the white glow of the panels. “I want to know _where_ you got this technology.”

“Holy shit,” McKay blurts, the first one of the four to recognize it for what it is. “how the hell did that get here?”

The window shatters, a grey metal ball rolling ominously on the floor. “Grenade!” Sheppard yells, and his team hits the floor, McKay covering Keller’s ears with his hands. Sam dives for Tour Guide, who is still stammering like an idiot about microsense medical science. She throws him on the ground and turns to put her back to the glass just as the high pitched whining turns to a boom. 

Then, nothing.

//

Fingers fumble over her face, feeling down her chin and touch her neck, on the jugular. There’s an arm touching the other side of her face--someone is leaning over her, close enough for her to feel their breath on her face. She slams her forehead up and scores a hit on something that gives.

“Jesus Christ,” Sheppard yelps, and with another three blinks Sam can see again, blurry. She stares up at the ceiling and groans. She knows what a concussion feels like.

“I’m starting to hate that foil,” she mutters, and sits up. The world tilts and stabilizes. Sheppard is holding a hand to his face, blood dripping from his nose. Ronon and Teyla are ripping foil from the floor, muttering to each other. Keller makes a penlight appear out of thin air and starts flashing it in Sam’s eyes.

McKay hands her a canteen. “You and me both.”

The water wets her dry mouth, and she holds it against her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing. Her hair is annoyingly mussed--it was never this bad when she kept it short. When she speaks her voice croaks. “Status?”

“Door doesn’t budge,” Sheppard says.

“Four guards outside,” Ronon says from where he and Teyla are trying to pry up one of the metal tiles that make up the floor.

“At least,” Teyla amends.

“Ow,” Sheppard adds. “thanks a lot, Colonel.”

“No problem, Colonel.” Sam closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them again McKay is poking her with a single finger from a safe distance, indenting her cheek and withdrawing before moving in again.

“She’s awake,” he reports, and Sheppard leans over her. Sam realizes she’s on the ground again. Someone’s jacket is pillowed under her head--the patch is poking in her ear. When McKay helps her sit up it’s revealed to be Teyla’s jacket, as she’s sitting in a black undershirt against one of the walls.

“They will be back soon,” she remarks evenly. 

Ronon grunts. “I’m bored.”

McKay turns to him, incredulous. “Oh I’m sorry, is our captivity not _exciting_ enough for you? Need a little more action to really get you going?” His voice gets shriller as he goes on, and Sam winces.

Ronon just looks at him. “If possible.”

“Status?” Sheppard asks.

“Concussion,” Sam mutters. “I’ve had worse.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Sheppard says.

“What she said,” Keller echoes. “I don’t like her slipping and out of consciousness, but without any equipment...” Her face twists, frustrated.

The door clanks open and they stand. Sam grabs Sheppard’s sleeve and hitches a ride up with him, undignified though it is. He steadies her with an arm about her waist that’s awkward enough Sam figures they’re about even for the headbutt thing, and lets her go as soon as she’s stable enough to stand on her own.

Tour Guide’s white face appears over the shoulder of one of the two guards standing in the doorway. “That one,” he says, pointing a shaking finger at Sam. “with the yellow hair.”

The guard moves for her and Ronon elbows him in the face with a snarl. Teyla lunges to back him up and the guard shoots her, a shot of energy that punches through her lower abdomen and scorches the wall behind them. She drops like a stone. Ronon catches her, easing her down, and Keller falls to her knees beside them. 

Sheppard puts his hands up, placating. “Woah, okay, you know you should take me. I can tell you everything you need--” The guard points his little blasty stick and Sheppard falls silent.

“Yes,” Sam says, throwing Sheppard a dark look. She doesn’t know him well enough to tell if it’s chivalry or general foolishness, and it doesn’t really matter. She’s in command here. “Let’s go.” The guard yanks on her arm, not gentle, and her vision blurs again.

The last thing she sees is Keller bent over Teyla, ripping off her own jacket, Teyla’s blood smeared up to her elbows.

//

“Tell us how you powered the device,” a man demands. He’s wearing something long and black, flatly buttoned up his chest. The buttons are decorated with tiny foil triangles.

Sam considers several responses, discards the automatic Jack O’Neill wisecrack, and chooses willful ignorance. “What device?” A guard slams his weapon into the backs of her knees: a painful, if familiar, move. When she falls he opens a small wooden container in front of her face. A ribbon device lies on crushed velvet. Sam’s chest goes cold. “Where did you get that?

“You worked the Cradle,” Buttons says.”we want to know how.”

Sam stands and they let her. “You obviously know how to work the finest example of microsense technology by yourself.”

Buttons smiles. It’s not a nice smile. “We are not a stupid people, Doctor. But some of the technology is… delicate. It has eluded our scientists. But not you. Won’t you share with us, as the first step to a long and profitable trade agreement between our peoples? We have many things to trade besides healing. Crops, timber, cloth.” His smile goes artificially benign.

“Colonel,” Sam corrects.

Buttons blinks. “What?”

“I am a decorated officer in the United States Air Force,” Sam says, “I speak for Atlantis, and for Earth, and I am a Colonel.”

Buttons’ lip curls. “Bloody her,” he orders. “Maybe she will find reason after a few hours in a cell.”

//

“Sam,” McKay says when she returns, relief coloring his tone. “any possibility of our imminent release?” He gives her water again, helps her sit. “Don’t go to sleep,” he says, worried. Sam can only see out of one eye, but she rolls her head to the side to get the best look she can at Teyla. Ronon and Sheppard are leaning their entire weight on jackets, rolled up into pressure packs. McKay’s fingers probe Sam’s cheek and eye socket, swollen shut, and she inhales sharply. “Nothing feels broken,” he reports.

Keller has Teyla’s blood in her eyebrow. “Feel for excessive heat, a fever.”

Sam grunts. “Too early for signs of infection. Focus on Teyla.”

“I am,” Keller all but shrieks, “all of my focus is on Teyla, but--”

“Do something,” Ronon orders, and Sheppard knocks him in the shoulder.

“Doc,” he says, gentling his tone, “what do you need? What can we do?”

Keller shakes her head, panting. “She needs surgery. It cauterized the wound, mostly, and the pressure will clot the rest, but she’s already lost too much blood. The internal damage alone is--” She stops herself. Teyla twists under their hands, pain response too strong to suppress, and Ronon leans on her a little harder. Her hand slides on his bicep, slippery with her own blood, gripping weakly

McKay leaves Sam propped against the wall and yanks his sleeve over his hand. He crosses the room and dabs the rough fabric of his cuff against Keller’s forehead. Everyone in the room--with the exception of Teyla, who is locked on the ceiling in a struggle to stay conscious--stares at him.

“Rodney,” Keller hisses, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Um,” McKay stammers, “mopping your brow?”

“Thanks for the sentiment,” Keller grits out, “but get the hell away from me and check the Colonel for internal bleeding.”

“Right,” McKay says, “right sorry, sorry.” He crawls back to Sam and slides careful fingers up her shirt before withdrawing sharply. “Uh, Sam I’m not trying to--this is medical, you understand?”

Sam decides rolling her eyes would hurt too much. “Rodney.”

“Not that I wouldn’t touch your body under different circumstances,” he continues. “it’s--you’ve got a great--not that you’re not smart too, I know that many people think you can’t be smart and beautiful but--”

“Rodney,” Teyla grits out, “stop yourself.” Her hand spasms weakly from where it’s twisted into Sheppard’s shirt.

“Right,” Rodney says. His hands steady on her hem of her shirt. “Sorry Sam.”

“Distention,” Keller reminds him, “excessive swelling.”

Rodney’s fingers are careful, but the touch makes her gasp. “Sorry Sam,” he says again, and withdraws. “I think she’s okay,” he says.

“Bruised,” Sam agrees, “maybe a fracture. Help me up.” McKay helps her up, supporting her weight while she gets her feet under her.”

“Got a plan, Colonel?” Sheppard asks.

“Not yet, Colonel.” Sam limps over to Teyla and leans against the wall to catch her breath, winded after six hitching steps.

“I really don’t love it when you do that,” McKay mutters, and rips open a tiny packet. “I had painkillers in my pocket. They didn’t take it with the rest of my stuff.” He offers her two orange pills. 

“Give them to Teyla,” Sam says, and taps Sheppard on the shoulder. She jerks her head towards the opposite corner and he looks at Keller.

“Go,” Keller says, “we’re finished with the pressure.” She sits back and holds a hand out to McKay. “Rodney, the water.”

Sheppard waits for Sam to drag herself over for their private conference. “A plan?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, “but you’re not going to like it.” She directs her gaze pointedly over his shoulder and he turns to see the rest of them, bunched around Teyla and talking in rough voices. Ronon helps her drink water.

“Little drops,” Keller orders.

“They’re really not going to like it,” Sam says.

//

Teyla’s arm is slung over Sam’s shoulder, and she’s short enough Sam has to hunch over, the position and extra weight causing lances of agony through her ribcage. “Are you sure,” McKay frets behind them. “I mean, have you thought through any other plans?”

Keller shoves sweaty bangs out of her face. “Have you thought of any other plans?”

“No,” McKay says, “but I have on occasion--mistakenly, and mostly due to blunt force trauma--said that Sam is smarter than me.”

“Then you must be very smart indeed, Colonel,” Teyla whispers. Her words dampen the cloth of Sam’s shirt, her mouth leaned on Sam’s sleeve. 

Sam hears the booted thumps of the guard’s footsteps. “I have my moments.”

Ronon appears at her shoulder, his arms crossed across his chest. “This better be one of those moments.”

Teyla sighs. “They can be--protective.”

“Men,” Sam agrees, and Teyla huffs a laugh. “We should get drinks after this,” Sam continues idly. “Have you ever had a mudslide?” Teyla twitches her head to the side, the smallest shake.

“It is,” Teyla says as the door swings open, “a date, as they say.”

“It will work,” Sam tells Ronon. He frowns at her. Teyla sags, suddenly unconscious. “I’m ready,” Sam tells the guards. “take me to the Cradle.” She pulls Teyla’s arm up and plants her shoulder in Teyla’s hip, hoisting her up in a fireman’s carry. Ronon grips her arm until she straightens fully. Her vision threatens to narrow out, but she hangs on by a thread. “It’ll work,” she says again, and follows the guards out of their cell.

//

“I have something,” she tells Buttons, “in my blood. A protein marker from being host to a symbiote.”

A man in a slick blue coat walks up and murmurs in Buttons’ ears. “We have only allowed exposure in the device for a few moments at a time,” Buttons says, “our Doctors were concerned with--” A wrinkle appears between his eyebrows. He gestures with a hand and Blue Coat steps forward.

“It regenerates cells at an extremely rapid rate, healing and replacing damaged or missing tissue. We were concerned that prolonged exposure would result in the creation of too much tissue, cell mutations that would create harmful masses.”

“Cancer,” Sam says, her mind jumping ahead of the explanation, “that cells would continue to grow after being removed from the machine--with no control over what kind of cells or ability to stop division. We call it cancer.”

Blue Coat nods, eager. “But if what you’re saying is true, the machine has a way of realizing when to stop division, as well as a way to identify and match what is needed to each person.”

“I’m not sure,” Sam says, “we’ve never taken one apart.”

Blue Coat is almost vibrating, “Exactly! With only two devices in the world, we haven’t dared attempt backway drawing.”

“Enough,” Buttons snaps, then visibly calms himself. “Colonel--” his voice twists oddly, unfamiliar sounds on his tongue, “please. I believe we have easily strayed from the marked path.” Sam rolls his words around her head without focusing too hard on literal meanings, deciphering idiom with the ease of long practice. They got off on the wrong foot, apparently. He means to use honey this time. “I believe we can help each other.”

Sam doesn’t know the deal here, and it irks the Commander in her--could be Buttons is maneuvering for political power, personal gain, maybe he genuinely thinks understanding the tech could help his people. The mathematician in her idly runs probability. She settles for placid noncommitment. “Oh?”

“We would be most eager to open trade negotiations, in exchange for collaboration on scientific endeavors.”

Sam feels a familiar stab of longing--how often have they wished for a sarcophagus, how many of their people could they have saved? She is reminded, suddenly, of Janet laughing, sitting on Jack’s porch with a hot dog, under the sun. Even one to take apart and try to back engineer would be infinitely valuable. “We are agreeable to negotiation. Release my people, and we will come back through the Stargate with a proposal, as well as gifts of good faith and samples of what we can offer.

Buttons falters, and bitter regret wells in Sam, just for a second, before it fades to resignation. He has no intention to release them. There’s a niggle of hope; if they escape they could come back, negotiate with someone else. It’s muted though--how long have they been fighting, and never once got their hands on a sarcophagus? “You understand this device? How it works, how to build another?”

Sam considers. Say yes and he may never let them go. Say no and he might try to cut his losses. The sarcophagus answers for them, hissing and lighting up as it opens. Teyla stirs inside and Sam steps forward, pulling her to a seated position. “Take deep breaths. The dizziness passes.”

“She knows,” Blue Coat is whispering behind her, “I heard her. She is the expert, not the other.” Keller, Sam thinks, had been introduced as their medical expert. 

“It’s true,” Button says, more of a murmur to himself than a statement to Sam herself, “extended time in the device does not incur side effects.”

“I feel very odd,” Teyla says, but she stands, shivers abruptly, and steadies. “It is not altogether a negative feeling.”

“It’s a boost,” Sam tells her, scanning her absently, still thinking, “it’ll fade after some sleep.” Teyla is looking behind her.

“There are only two guards,” she says softly, “the others are not armed.”

“I suppose hospitals aren’t known for their police presence, even here.”

“I will take the one on my left,” Teyla says. Sam reaches up, ostensibly to scratch under her loose braid, and slips a slender needle free. A joke gift turned useful, she’ll have to send Teal’c a thank you card. She presses it into Teyla’s hand. Teyla’s eyebrow creeps up her face, impressed.

“They never check your hair,” Sam says. They smile at each other, something solidifying between them. Sam knows gelling between teammates when she feels it. “With me,” Sam says, and launches herself low and fast and without elegance. She hits her target in the knees, and he fumbles for his weapon, firing aimlessly into the ceiling as he tumbles. As she moves she feels the air rush as Teyla vaults out of the sarcophagus and then a scream of pain from the guard.

Buttons and Blue Coat shout, alarmed, and Sam scrambles to smash the guard’s head against the wall. He slumps, senseless, and Sam turns--the other guard is writing on the floor, his hands against his face. Between his fingers, the edge of a needle glints. It look like Teyla might have got him in the eye. Sam has a second to approve, even as she’s moving for Buttons, but something rolls through the door, round and silver. It stops about a foot from Sam’s left foot.

“Down!” She shouts to Teyla, and grabs the guard at her feet by the belt and jacket, hauling him up and dropping him on top of the grenade. A concussive force knocks her off balance and her injuries scream, but she stays on her feet. She goes to Teyla, who is holding Buttons in a choke hold. She grabs Teyla around the wrist and drags her to the corner of the room. They pull the vent cover off together. 

Sam kicks Buttons in the crotch. He groans, sucking in a desperate gasp and gagging. Blue Coat is lying to the side, out cold. “Go. It’ll be a minute before they realize you were with me here. Get out, get to the gate, send a retrieval team.” Teyla hesitates, and Sam channels her best Jack O’Neill. “ _Go_. It’s an order.” Teyla disappears into the vent, thumping very faintly, and Sam shoves the grate back into place she hears shattering glass, the clank and roll of two more grenades.

//

“She’s awake,” Rodney says. Sam blinks, sightless. She groans. Her tongue is glued to the roof of her mouth, and she licks at her teeth over and over, trying to produce saliva. Her face hurts, her ribs are agony, she thinks her ankle might be broken. In her temple, pain throbs, stabbing enough to muddy her mind.

“Good,” Ronon grunts from somewhere to her left, “we need answers.”

Sam coughs, dry and hacking. She gasps as her ribs vehemently protest the action.

“Water,” Keller says. Plastic crinkles. There’s an expectant pause, and Sam extends her hand.

“Blind,” she rasps.

“Oh,” Keller says, fumbling, “yes, sorry.” Hands haul her upright and soft fingers guide a bottle to her mouth. She trickles water into Sam’s mouth.

“Blind?” Rodney repeats, his voice gone high and shrill.

“Relax,” Sheppard says--Sam thinks he’s directly in front of her, facing away-- “some grenades cause temporary blindness. It’ll fade, Colonel.”

“I’m aware,” Sam says, pushing the bottle away and sitting up straighter. She blinks rapidly.

“Not your first rodeo, huh Colonel?” Keller’s cheer is forced but Sam appreciates it all the same. Her vision creeps back, lightening along the edges.

“No. What’s in my head?” Sam reaches finger to touch her temple. There’s something there, something intrusive. She feels it nudging at her, tickling. It feels familiar.

“Don’t.” Keller stops her. “I don’t know deeply it’s implanted; I’m concerned about brain damage.”

“Not good,” Rodney mutters, “that’s an important brain.”

“Colonel.” Sheppard is patient but insistent.

Sam pulls herself to order. “Teyla is healed. We tried to escape, we were separated. I told her to go on and try for the gate.”

“What do they want?” Sheppard is steady, calm, focused. He’s an excellent 21C. If they survive, Sam will be sure to place (another) commendation in his file.

“They don’t know how to work the sarcophagus.” Sam closes her eyes and organizes her thoughts. “There were conduits connected to it, machinery. The kind of power it would need, and the power draw available here... “ She sighs. “Maybe they only treat the rich and charge premium rates, maybe they want the draw of a functional sarcophagus, especially if they think I know how to work it more efficiently.”

“Maybe if wishes were fishes we’d eat filet all day long,” Sheppard says. Sam nods. When she opens her eyes she can focus again.

“I don’t think that’s how it goes,” Rodney says. He’s sitting against the wall. Ronon lurks against the opposite side of their cell, Sheppard standing between them. Keller kneels at Sam’s side, sees her eyes focus.

“Hi Colonel.”

“Hi,” Sam croaks. Keller offers her the water bottle and Sam takes it, drinking greedily.

“Sam,” Janet says from the far corner, “why didn’t you save me?” 

Sam blinks at her, struck dumb. She touches the piece of metal at her temple, ignoring Keller’s fluttering dissent. Round, curved, probably with a stupid blinking light. “Nuts,” she mutters. It’s a familiar phrase, one her mother used--not that Sam can’t swear with the best of the marines--; it also happens to particularly apt for her current situation. She lets Dr. Carter out for a second; it’s clearly not the same device that’s been used on her before to search her memories, but it’s also obviously similar. But for what purpose? Jane’t lab coat drips blood on the floor; Sam remembers the way Cassie cried in her arms until she threw up.

“We can’t count on Teyla,” Sheppard is musing, his hand scrubbing through his hair. “Any plan Bs?”

“Attack,” Ronon says. He cracks his knuckles.

“Maybe you could lie,” Rodney suggests, “buy us some time for Teyla to save us?”

Sam hesitates. She makes a motion to Sheppard, Academy War Games hand signals, _quiet, quiet. listen_. Sheppard pauses, then nods, understanding. Ronon frowns, knowing something is being communicated but not exactly what it is. “I won’t tell them anything,” she tells the ceiling, lying back down and closing her eyes. “And Teyla is long gone. She took the steam tunnels.” She hopes they are watching, hopes they scour their tunnels while Teyla crawls to freedom through the walls. Regardless of her ability to reach the gate, someone will come soon when they miss their scheduled check in.

“Don’t go to sleep,” Keller prompts, almost fidgeting. “Not with your wounds and that---whatever that is.”

“Not my first blunt head trauma,” she says. The other memory devices were susceptible to user interference--if she can break Fifth’s delusions she can break these.

“You think now’s the time for a nap?” Ronon is edging on furious, cooped up too long with nothing to fight. If Sam weren’t in command, she’d suggest practicing that meditation he and Teyla work on every morning, see if she could get his eye to twitch. Ronon’s grumbling fall abruptly away, and Sam assumes Sheppard’s clueing them in.

“You left me to die,” Fifth whispers in her ear. She can feel his breath on her neck. “You know you deserved what I did to you.”

“You were distracted going through the security machine,” Sheppard says, “the scanner thing.” Sam jolts. Yes, she remembers, she was. Distracted, unfocused, mind somewhere else in a way that’s fine in her lab or in the field with her team at her back, but in a way she doesn’t allow herself in Atlantis--especially offworld. It’s a credit to Sheppard’s instincts, his leadership, that he noticed at all, especially since they hardly know each other well enough to notice out of character behaviour. Sam allows a lightning flash of frustration through her brain-her team would have known immediately; Teal’c was always better at sensing naquadah than she was.

“Doesn’t matter,” she murmurs, falling into the breathing pattern Teal’c taught her. How Ancient and Goa'uld tech got to this galaxy is a question for debriefings and follow up missions, not escape plans. 

“Nice of you to join us, Carter.”

Sam opens her eyes. Jack is lounging against the wall, smiling his unamused smile. Sam sits up. “Good,” she says out loud. She’s always glad to fast-forward through psychological mind games. 

“Good?” McKay yelps. “What is good about this situation?”

Sheppard is watching with sharp eyes. “Colonel?”

Sam shakes herself a little, lets the pain flare and ebb. “I think it’s safe to say their economy is a capitalist one,” Daniel is musing, bent low over the foil patterns. 

“That is not relevant,” Teal’c says. “Colonel Carter, I believe this panel houses components that will aid you in your escape.”

“There,” Sam says, pointing where Teal’c indicates. “Pry that up, see what we can work with. We’re not waiting for a rescue.” Ronon grins.

The gates crank open and guards shove Keller away from her, dragging her up and away. She throws a last look over her shoulder--Sheppard gives her a nod.

//

“No doubt you are ready to capitulate,” Buttons says, gloating. To his right, Jack rolls his eyes and Daniel looks amused.

“I’m okay, thanks,” Sam says, and enjoys the flush of rage crossing his face. “Look. This isn’t sustainable. Our people will come for us, and if necessary, it will be war. Are you ready for that?”

Buttons doesn’t look as worried as Sam would like. “Our most powerful citizens use the cradle device, Colonel. They are _very_ invested in understanding how to replicate the effects. And if you won’t help us…” He shrugs. “Perhaps you were assassinated by the neighboring Malai. Our country will be happy to assist in any retaliatory actions.”

“Lorne’ll never fall for it,” Jack says, “not that’ll do you any good if you’re dead.” Sam rolls her eyes at him. Buttons gestures at the guards.

//

“Are you sure he’s acting alone?” Sheppard paces a little, thinking out loud. “If not, are we sure the higher ups would be okay with killing us? Maybe he’ll be overruled.”

“The effects of sarcophagi are addictive,” Sam says, half slumped against the wall after another session with the guards. Keller is wrapping her ribs with strips of Ronon’s shirt. “It’s likely they would do anything for the chance at more opportunities to use.” Keller sits back and Sam takes a cautious breath. Better. “Help me up,” she says, gesturing to where Rodney is sitting in front of the open panel to disguise their tampering from the guards.

Ronon drags her over, surprisingly gentle. “Crystals,” Rodney says, “and wires. It’s a mess in there.” He unwraps his jacket, showing a few smaller crystals, connectors, a few stripped wires. “Everything I hope they won’t miss right away.” He goes back to the panel, looking for more scrap.

“Good.” Sam takes the motley resources and holds one crystal up to the dim light. “I can work with this. Did they take your watch?”

“Not mine,” Keller says, unbuckling it quickly and handing it over. Sheppard intercepts it, drops it on the floor and steps on it.

“No screwdrivers,” he explains to her horrified face, and nudges the pieces to Sam with the toe of his boot.

“Is there anything you can’t blow up?” Jack crouches next to her. “Looks like a lot of nothing.”

“Nothing is nothing, Sir,” Sam remarks absently, easing out the watched batteries from cracked glass.

“Who are you talking to?” Rodney squints at her. “Who is she talking to?”

“The device in my head,” Sam says, wrapping one end of a wire around the batteries, “it’s used to examine memories. I’ve been able to influence it to avoid unpleasant apparitions.”

“You’re hallucinating?” Rodney’s voice is high pitched again. “Oh but if they’re _pleasant_ hallucinations.”

“It’s not like he has any room to talk,” Daniel says. 

“Indeed,” Teal’c agrees. 

“Exactly,” Sam agrees, cracking the crystal against the ground to split it. She wads up metal wire and stuffs it up into the crack.

“She’s talking to them,” Rodney is saying to Sheppard. “Are you concerned? Because I’m concerned.”

“I need a spark,” Sam mutters.

A flint stone appears in her vision. “Rocks aren’t so dangerous,” Ronon says simply. 

“So they think,” Sam says, grinning fiercely. Ronon’s lips quirk. Sam sits back and examines the device in her lap. She think it might be a new record for cobbled junk explosive. And she thinks it’s really going to hurt to detonate. At the panel, Rodney sighs and turns away. He holds up empty hands--they’re not going to get anything more from there. Absently, Sam angles the device away, hiding it with her hands so Rodney can’t see it clearly. She thinks she has a decent plan to get them out of here.

“No good,” Jack disagrees flatly, “new plan.”

“Sorry sir,” Sam says, “but this is the one I’ve got.” She tucks her bomb into her jacket pocket. “Colonel.”

Sheppard looks up from where he’s whispering with Rodney. “Me Colonel? Ready to share with the class?”

“Yes.” Sam holds a hand and he helps her stand. “When they come, they lock the outer door behind them until the cell is secured again. Next time, blitz. Keep them off me and away from the controls. I’ll blow the door.”

“And we just walk out?”

“Our gear is in the secondary room, just beyond.” Sam points. “On shelves. I’ve seen it. You’ll have to fight your way out, and it’s no guarantee.”

“Should we wait for rescue?” Keller is hesitant. “That might be safer.”

“I suspect we’re dealing with a small faction,” Sam says, cracking her knuckles and flexing her sore muscles. “If you can get out of this section of the facility and to the gateroom, which is public, I think they’ll cut their losses and let you go.”

“Sloppy Sam,” Daniel says, and Sam is confused for a moment before she realizes.

Rodney has realized it also. “Why ‘you’? Why not ‘us’?”

Sam recovers without a stumble. “I can remain to negotiate forces being sent after you. If necessary, I’ll pretend to cooperate until you can return with a rescue force.”

“No,” Sheppard says.

Sam’s eyes go cold. “No?”

“No _sir_ ,” Sheppard corrects. “We’re all leaving.” His jaw clenches, then eases. “No one gets left behind.”

There’s palpable tension for a moment, then Sam relaxes deliberately. “Fine. I might need some help running.”

“Keller, Rodney,” Sheppard orders, “you stay on the Colonel. Ronon, you’re on our sixes, I’ll take point. We don’t stop moving until we’re through the gate.”

“I thought we were not supposed to be telling our plans to Sam,” Rodney grumbles, but doesn’t make any other objections. Ronon gives Sam a considering look, then turns away.

Sam slips a hand in her pocket and fingers the flint rock, thinking. “John’s going to be angry with you,” Daniel muses. “So will the real Daniel, I think.”

“As will I,” Teal’c notes.

“Shove off,” Sam mutters, “you guys were bad enough the first time.”

“I was helpful,” Teal’c says.

Daniel scoffs. “Are you saying I was annoying?”

“I believe my statement was clear.” 

“Guys,” Jack says, “gimme a minute, will ya?” Daniel and Teal’c fade, giving her last smiles. Sam is glad for them, to see them---Sam has always been glad for them. 

“Get some rest,” Sheppard tells her. Apparently they’ve decided to ignore her crazy ramblings. “We’ll get you standing when it’s time.”

Sam lets Keller lie her down and turns to face the wall. Someone pokes her in the shoulder. “Carter.”

“Not now sir, I’m sleeping.” She closes her eyes.

“Uh,” Keller says, “sorry to... interrupt, Colonel, but please don’t sleep.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Jack says. He sits next to her head. “I miss you, you know. I mean, I guess you think I miss you, since I’m not, you know. Me.”

“I hope,” Sam corrects softly.

The Jack in her mind shrugs. “You know how I am.”

“Don’t start with that.” Sam doesn’t want to hear anymore about safe bets. She has a bomb to set off and a team to save. And she’s not nearly as young as she used to be. 

“You’re nearly three days late for contact,” Jack says. “That means they’ll have contacted SGC.” Protocol dictates Atlantis communicate before any major undertaking, especially one that involves rescuing their Commander from an alien threat. In fact, Sam thinks, it’s odd they haven’t been rescued already. Her musings are broken by Jack’s voice, as tired as she remembers: “Do you think I ever get tired of worrying about you?”

Sam blinks. “Would you stop if you were?”

Jack shrugs. “That’s not how it works, is it?”

Sam closes her eyes again. “No sir, not so far.”

Jack’s hand lands on her shoulder, careful to be proper even though no one but Sam can see him. Even in her subconscious they are allowed so little. “Not gonna call me Jack?”

“Not this time, General,” Sam whispers. She wishes he were here--she misses the early years, ridiculously, when the Goa'uld were the worst thing out there and Sha’are was the only one they’d lost. She’s a veteran of four wars now, and she’s not sure any of them will ever be over. She misses her team.

She dozes a little, even though she’d told Keller she wouldn’t, and enjoys the pressure of Jack’s hand, slipping along her arm to tangle his fingers in hers. It’s nice, even if it isn’t real.

//

“Sam,” Rodney whispers, breaking her out of semi-consciousness, “they’re coming.” He and Keller help her stand, and Sam sags against them, playing up her injuries.

“I have to help her,” Keller says to the guards, catching on, “she can’t stand on her own.” Sam keeps her good eye half lidded--they’ve only sent three guards to get her, and if she remembers correctly, there’s only one more in the next room, guarding their gear. Odds are pretty good, considering. Keller sidles her forward, and just as the guard reaches for her, Sam launches herself.

It’s not graceful, but she’s tall and she’s still got muscle, and she takes them both to the ground in a tangle of elbows and eye-gouging. Ronon and Sheppard take on the other two, scuffling to prevent them from activating any alarms. Rodney shields Keller, ducking in to kick at knees when the opportunity presents itself. Keller throws an impressive elbow. Sam rolls off her own to stagger for the door, Ronon taking her place and grabbing the man in a chokehold. Sam kneels and places the small bomb against the smooth metal.

All the guards drop, and as a team they move towards her. She throws up a hand. “Stay back.”

“Sam?” Rodney is frowning at her. He looks at her bomb closely for the first time---”where’s the fuse?”

“No fuse,” Sam says, taking the other crystals out and clustering them. “Just a conduit.” The flint is warm in her hands, the steel edge of Keller’s watch is cold.

“No--” Rodney starts forward and Sheppard catches him by the back of the shirt. Rodney protests: “She’s going to blow us all up!”

“Not you,” Sam says, checking the wiring. “I’ve worked with these crystals before,” she says, explaining as she jury-rigs, “they’re unstable if cracked, and if supplied with a charge, can be effective explosives. The flint will act as a spark, arcing up the wire and detonating these crystals.”

“And all of us,” Rodney snaps, “I _told_ you she was too concussed to be Super Sam.”

“Not you,” Sam says again, sitting back and eyeballing her setup. It’s as good as it’s gonna get. “Just me.” Her body will block it, although-- “you should use their bodies as cover from shrapnel.” There’s wordless protest from behind her, and she throws up a hand again. When she speaks it’s firm. “Colonel.”

“With all due respect,” Sheppard starts, and Sam strikes the flint. The spark leaps to the wire and dances up. Behind her, Sheppard shouts and there’s thumps as bodies hit the ground. Sam angles her body behind the device, aiming it as best she can, and takes a deep breath.

“You die free, Samantha Carter,” Teal’c says, sitting cross-legged next to her.

“And not alone.” Daniel takes her hand and holds it tight.

“Hail Dorothy,” Jack teases, and Sam smiles.

//

Sam doesn’t know what the most painful experience of her life has been. Was it her mother, for being first and before she knew how to put up shields, how to carry on? Daniel, for being her first loss in the longest war of her life? Janet, maybe, for being one she thought she could count on, or her father, even though it came later than biology decreed. She has seen herself die in countless universes, she has died and come back to life more than once. 

So this isn’t the most painful, or the most philosophical moment, but she does think, lying in an alien prison a galaxy away from home, that it isn’t the best feeling she’s ever had, drowning in her own blood.

“Colonel!” Keller kneels over her, “Oh my god.” She starts to pull at Sam’s shirt, and Sam is still strong enough to push her hands away.

“No,” she gasps, blood slipping down her chin. “Broken ribs, collapsed lung. Go.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Rodney says. Ronon and John go past, into the next room, and return, shrugging on vests and checking weapons. 

“Status,” Sheppard orders.

“Bad,” Keller says, checking Sam’s eyes and pulse. Sam’s breath has started to wheeze wetly in her one working lung. “Really, really bad.”

“Go,” Sam rasps, “it’s an order.”

Rodney scoffs, eyes wet, “I’m pretty sure this counts as unfit to command.”

“Colonel Sheppard,” Sam says, her vision narrowing, “I am ordering you to return to Atlantis without me.”

“Hey,” Jack says, very close as her eyes close and her hearing goes, “remember when I told you to get a life?”

“Yeah,” Sam tries to say, but her throat doesn’t work anymore. Her blood is thick and slippery against her tongue.

“I never meant it,” Jack says, and Sam falls away.

//

She wakes up in a sarcophagus, blinding white light and a familiar euphoria. She panels above creak open, and Teyla’s face peers over her, smudged with dust and dirt and grime. “Colonel Carter. We must depart.” There’s a stabbing pain in her temple, but other than that, the good soreness of a workout. She arches her back, stretching, and it feels amazing. She sits up and frowns.

“Didn’t you leave?”

Teyla is holding one of the baton shock weapons the guards of this planet seem to favor. “I did not. I have been gathering intelligence. They told Atlantis we were killed by forces from a neighboring country. When you set off the explosion, I tracked it to find you wounded.” Sam slides out of the sarcophagus and cracks her neck. Four guards lie unconscious, and Sam grins. She bends over one and takes his baton, wishing for her Micro 16 rifle, or a familiar P90. “The others?”

“They escaped, I have heard them speak of it. However, there is a problem.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“They have temporarily deactivated the stargate. Atlantis may well believe both of us dead.”

Sam nods, tracking her thoughts, “It’s possible no one is coming back for us.” She rolls another guard over, checking his pockets, and comes up with her sidearm. “Aha.” He must have taken it as a trophy; the familiar grip, fitting to her calluses, makes her feel almost as good as the sarcophagus did. “We go to the gateroom, make some noise?”

Teyla looks considering. “It has been very difficult, creeping about and unable to help my team. I wish to engage in violence.”

Sam flicks the safety off. “I think we can make that happen.”

//

They find a supply closet, and Teyla helps Sam strip it bare. Sam shows Teyla how to build crystal bombs, and with the aid of longer wires to use as fuses, they grenade their way to the gate room. Teyla finds two shock batons and uses them with the ease of long practice, spinning them in her hands as she takes down guard after guard. Sam ranges along the edges, identifying guards who carry shock grenades and taking them down before they can utilize them. Alarms ring out around them, and Sam doesn’t think they have much longer before whatever their equivalent of the national guard is descends.

“Perhaps we should--” Teyla starts, and the stargate activates. Sam grabs her by the arm and hauls over to cover, just as she hears the sing of a beaming transport. 

“Sam?” Daniel still half-fumbles with his rifle, even after all these years, and Sam aches with joy to see it again. 

Through the stargate, ten figures in BDUs come out in a charge, Sheppard and Ronon at the front. They all stop and look at each other. Ronon shoots a guard attempting to get on his feet. Sam and Teyla step out from behind their cover. 

“We’re here to rescue you,” Sheppard says, covering his surprise fairly well. Sam looks around and takes in the damage--two of the four walls no longer exist, and there are smoking black craters every ten feet. Fifteen to twenty armed guards lie prone in various positions. A large piece of the ceiling falls off with a clang. 

“Daniel Jackson and I arrived first,” Teal’c says, smug. 

Lorne speaks into his radio and Rodney and Keller come through the gate, looking banged up and relieved.

Teyla drops her batons. “We already….” she pauses, and she she speaks again the phrase sits oddly on her tongue, like she’s repeating it but doesn’t fully understand it, “brought the noise.”

Sam tosses her last grenade away. “We appreciate the sentiment.” She walks to her team and accepts Teal’c’s solemnly joyous hug. “You guys gonna follow me home, or do you have a ride?”

“Tyr was very generous to allow us passage,” Teal’c says, “he regrets he is unable to transport us back to Earth.”

Rodney gapes. “The _Asgard_ brought you?”

Daniel scratches his head, evasive. “Well, we’re not exactly here on behalf of the SGC. Officially.”

It’s Sheppard’s turn to gape. “You’re AWOL?”

Daniel shrugs. “It’s not like it’s the first time.”

“Nor is it the second.” Teal’c offers them a short bow, then disregards them entirely. “Samantha, may I escort you?”

“Indeed,” Sam says, feeling cheery. Daniel and Teal’c flank her, and they walk up the gate, past Sheppard and Ronon. “Debriefing in eight hours,” she orders. “We’re officially withdrawn. Next steps to be discussed at the debriefing. Eat something, sleep.”

Teal’c pauses in front of Keller. “You are the chief medical officer of this expedition.”

“Yes,” Keller stammers, in the face of Teal’c full, intimidating attention.

“Colonel Carter will be joining you in the infirmary immediately for a full examination.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Sam cuts in.

“Oh it is,” Sheppard chimes in. “You’re not in command until she clears you. Teyla, that goes for you too.” He makes a quick, jerky gesture with his arm, looping it up then pointing his fingers at the gate. “We’re clearing out, let’s go.”

//

Sam sits on the edge of an infirmary bed and waits for Keller to clear her. 

“Originally the message got messed up,” Daniel is explaining, pushing his glasses up his nose, “they reported you dead. Woolsey assumed command, and, well…” he trails off.

“It was not acceptable for your body not to be buried with honor on Earth,” Teal’c finishes.

Daniel shrugs. “Death never seems to stick to SG-1 anyway, we hoped for the best.”

“Stay for a few days,” Sam offers. She knows Daniel would love to bury himself in the archive.

“We accept,” Teal’c says promptly. “Vala MalDoran is most displeased with us for not allowing her to join us.”

“So’s Cam,” Daniel says offhandedly. “Missed out on another SG-1 goes rogue moment.”

“You’re good to go,” Keller says. “I--I am very glad to see you again.” Her eyes swim. She turns away, pretending to straighten her instruments to hide her face.

“You did very well,” Sam says gently. “I’m sorry one of your first missions was this difficult. I’m placing a commendation in your file.”

Keller clears her throat. “Thank you, Colonel.”

“Teyla and I are going for drinks sometime,” Sam says, hopping to her feet. “Care to join us?” Maybe Vala will come also---if Daniel is somewhere for long enough, you can generally count on Vala to make her way there too.

Keller swipes are her face. “I’d like that.”

Sam clasps her shoulder. “You did very well,” she repeats.

“I am in need of sustenance,” Teal’c announces, and Sam turns away with a smile.

“To the mess?”

//

“There’s another thing,” Daniel hedges, once they’re seated, Teal’c with four trays. Daniel peels the crust off the edges of his sandwich and takes a fussy bite. “It’s a little awkward, so Teal’c is---”

“Daniel Jackson has information regarding O’Neill,” Teal’c interrupts, and drains an entire bottle of water in three swallows.

Sam starts. “The General?” When Daniel hesitates her eyes narrow. “I’m in charge here Daniel. One word from me and it’s decaf all the way.”

“Jack is with the Asgard,” Daniel says reluctantly, “he agreed to help negotiate with their council in exchange for our ride.”

“I figured,” Sam says, moving corn and mashed potatoes around her plate. “Do you think they’ll ever call on him again?”

“They seem to like him,” Daniel says, shrugging. “I don’t understand it either.”

“He will be here within the day,” Teal’c says, advancing the plot in his calm, deliberate manner.

Sam gapes. Then pinches Daniel on the hip, below the table, where no one can see. “Ow,” he protests.

A plastic cup thumps on the table between them, jarring. Blue jello wiggles. “They say you like that,” Ronon grunts, and walks away. Sam blinks, then shrugs, pulling it towards her.

“I think he likes you,” Daniel teases. “What will Jack say?”

Sam pinches him again.

//

Sam palms the door to her office open and Rodney leaps to his feet. “Where have you been,” he demands, “I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“It’s 0600,” Sam replies, “and our briefing isn’t for another two hours.” Daniel and Teal’c are still in her quarters, Daniel slumped in her chair and Teal’c in the spare cot.

“Nevermind that,” Rodney snaps. “I… I need to talk to you.”

Sam sits behind her desk. “Of course.”

Rodney pulls out a piece of crumpled paper, pacing. “One. We wait for rescue, which was in the words. Two. You stop being so self-sacrificingly stubborn for one second and pretend to cooperate. Three. We use the wire in Keller’s bra as a fuse and a different arrangement of crystals for--”

“Rodney,” Sam interrupts. “What is this?”

“These are ways that you don’t have to die in my arms,” Rodney shouts. He drops his list and takes a deep breath. “I know how I used to be, okay. When we met. I’d like to think I’m a better person now.” Sam opens her mouth, but he flaps a hand at her. “Shut up, I’m trying to be humble. My point is, you showed me what sacrifice means, working for a greater purpose. I’ve already learned the lesson, okay? You don’t have to prove it again.”

“Okay Rodney,” Sam says, gentle. “I get it.”

“Good,” he says, flopping into a chair. He pushes a mug over to her, another already cradles in his hands. “For you.”

They drink in silence, watch the sun rise over the water.

//

“We’ve received transmissions from political parties on Helia,” Sam informs the team once they’re seated. “Their leaders want us to know this was the actions of a single deranged individual.”

“Our bargaining position must be very strong,” Teyla notes.

“Damn well better be,” Sheppard says, “they killed our Commanding Officer.”

“Technically she killed herself,” Rodney says.

“I’m accepting the second round of negotiations,” Sam says. There is a small uproar in response, she waits for it to fade before speaking again. “They will take place here.” This mollifies them some.

“Teyla mentioned there were diagnostic devices attached to the sarcophagus, printouts. I’d like copies,” Keller says.

“Done,” Sam says. “Have your reports in by next week. Details forthcoming. As team on first contact, I invite you all to attend. Sheppard, we need a conference room and an appropriate showing of force.”

“Yes Colonel,” Sheppard says. There’s a hum, and then he’s standing, along with Sam. They salute automatically.

“Come on,” Jack says, “you know I hate that.”

//

Sheppard bangs his fist on Carter’s door. It slides open. “General,” he says, surprised and hiding it badly.

“Carter’s asleep,” Jack says. “Can it wait?”

“I wanted to tell her we’re ready for negotiations,” Sheppard says, “the volunteer list for looking armed and scary in the gate room was a mile long.”

Jack nods. “Good. Hey,” he calls, as John turns to leave, “was it a close one?”

“Yes,” John says. He hesitates. “We’re very lucky to have Colonel Carter here.”

“You definitely are,” Jack says flatly. “Don’t forget it. Our allies are very fond of her.”

“Of course,” John says. He salutes again. Jack rolls his eyes and triggers the door shut.

//

Sam tries to slide off her chair. “Don’t even,” Jack says, casting his line again. “Three days rest, doctor’s orders.” Sam sighs.

“I still have to--”

“Give it a rest, Sam,” Jack says. “Radio Teal’c to bring you a hot dog.”

Sam sighs again. “How much did a city-wide barbeque set you back, anyway?”

“Oh, I still have some strings.” He slouches a bit more, his legs spread, and their knees touch. The sun glints off the water, the breeze ruffling their hair under their caps. Sam relaxes back and smiles. “It’s a good day,” he says, his hand dangling between them.

Sam catches his fingers in her. “It is,” she agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unfinished--I've been cleaning up my docs and found this--it was meant to be a larger work. If it feels rough it's because it is. Thank you for reading and I hope it was enjoyable.


End file.
